


Damn that New Caprican leaf

by akh



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akh/pseuds/akh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the decisions Laura had made in her life, following Bill down a detour after getting high by the mountain lake, had proably not been one of her best ones.</p>
<p>This is a 2015 Mary Fic Fest entry. Prompt: Laura/Bill - New Caprica's local smokeable</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn that New Caprican leaf

"Don't you think we passed that rock already?" Laura asks, trailing a couple of steps behind Bill, swaying slightly on her feet as she comes to a halt.

Bill pauses and turns back to look at the dark rock protruding from the ground. They have already passed several similar looking crops.

"Possibly," he says, but doesn't sound entirely convinced.

Of all the decisions Laura had made in her life, following Bill down a detour after getting high by the mountain lake, had proably not been one of her best ones. They had already stayed by the lake longer than Laura had ever intended, one joint turning into two or a few (Laura had no idea anymore) while minutes rolled into hours. When they finally had gotten up to leave, well and truly baked, Bill had spotted a meadow some distance away, very much in the opposite direction from the camp they were supposed to be returning to. On a whim fueled by the effects of the New Caprican leaf, they had decided to explore it.

Like so many bad ideas, it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but after over an hour of walking, it was becoming clear they had either misjudged the distance or taken a wrong turn - both options entirely possible in their present state. Looking back, Laura wasn't even sure how to get back to their original spot by the mountain lake anymore.

"Do you have any idea where the camp is?" she asks Bill after they have trudged on for a while longer. "It's getting dark."

Bill hesitates. Looks around.

"It should be north from here," he says at last, and Laura almost believes he knows what he's talking about.

Taking a bearing from the setting sun, they both turn to look at what ought to be the north.

It's not a promising sight.

"Well, we can't go that way," Laura is the first to observe out loud. The stinking marshland starting some fifty yards ahead does not look even remotely passable. Certainly not while they are only dressed for an easy hike and are both currently higher than the setting sun, which is already hanging dangerously close to the horizon.

Laura tries not to giggle at the thought, because it really shouldn't be funny.

"So we return to the lake," Bill replies, unperturbed. "Set up camp there for the night."

"We have no tents to set up camp with," Laura argues. "No provisions, either." The picnic basket they had brought with them has long since been emptied.

"We have blankets," Bill counters.

"And weed," Laura remembers, finally erupting into the giggles she's been trying to hold back.

"And weed," Bill chuckles, taking Laura's arm as they begin clambering back where they came from.

Damn that New Caprican leaf.

It still takes them a couple of wrong turns and nearly two hours before they make it back to where they started off, and it's pitch dark by the time they arrive at the lake. It's a miracle, really, that they find it at all after the sunset, but fortunately they manage to locate the right path just before the darkness falls, and are able to follow their own footsteps in the faint light of the stars.

When they reach the lake, they spread the blankets on the same patch of soft grass they had occupied earlier. It would probably be a good idea to try to get some sleep, but somehow they come to the agreement that lighting up another joint is an even better idea, their earlier buzz having already started to mellow by now.

As they light up again, Laura thinks absently that she probably hasn't spent a full day this stoned since college.

But what's a couple of more joints on a starry night like this? Nobody's counting.

 

"Bill..." she drawls some time later, now well into their second rollup.

"Mmh?" he hums, pulling her a little closer as they lay sprawled over the blankets, a little too far from one another for Bill's liking.

She burrows against his side, her hand coming to rest over his chest. She's already forgotten what she was going to say and lets out a soft giggle instead.

Damn that New Caprican leaf.

Bill joins in, neither of them really sure what they're laughing at, but both in agreement that something is definitely funny.

And then suddenly his lips are on hers, or hers are on his, and neither is quite sure of how it happened, but the sweet taste of intoxicating smoke lingers on both pairs of lips, and somehow passing the joint between them seems pointless when they can just skip the middleman and suck on each other instead.

Perhaps the logic is flawed, but then neither of them is at their sharpest anyway. And perhaps they've already had enough to smoke.

Her fumbling hands on his belt definitely have nothing to do with trying to score another hit of smoke from his lips. His hands slipping under her shirt are not expecting to find another joint of New Caprican weed hidden in her bra. Sometimes solid flesh just trumps fleeting wisps of smoke.

"Gods, Laura..." he mumbles against her mouth when her leg slides over his and she moves to straddle him, their lips never fully parting.

Her only response is a deep hum somewhere in the back of her throat as she deepens the kiss.

They don't undress. The night is growing too chilly for that now. But it doesn't mean they can't make the most of what they have.

Lips searching bare patches of skin where they can find it, hands sliding under fabrics to find heat and flesh and softness and hardness and delicious wetness on either side.

Their coupling is a hot mess of grunts and gasps and giggles as they clumsily topple over, under, and all around each other, seeking release like a pair of teenagers who only have the barest idea of what they're doing.

It might be different if it was less dark, if the weather was warmer, if the ground was more even, or if they were even remotely sober, but under the circumstances it's the best they can do.

And perhaps it's the effects of the weed, but the result is surprisingly satisfying too.

When they collapse on the ground in a heap of laughter and heavy breathing, trousers undone and the last, half-smoked joint lost and forgotten somewhere on the ground, neither can recall the last time sex, or whatever this was, felt as good or satisfying.

Somewhere beneath the thick haze clouding her mind, Laura knows she's going to feel thoroughly sore the next morning, but she can't quite bring herself to care about it yet. Instead, she wraps her arms around Bill (for warmth, she tells herself) and hums softly against his neck.

"We should probably sleep," she mumbles, growing drowsy now the high is fading into something of a gentle buzz, the weed mixed with the physical exertion finally getting the best of her.

"Yeah," he agrees, shifting so that their bodies can press as tightly against each other as possible (for warmth, of course, he tells himself).

It is a little chilly after all.

 

Later, when Laura is already fast asleep, Bill runs his fingers gently through her long locks of auburn hair and watches over her as she sleeps.

He should be too old for this, but with Laura, he doesn't feel that way.

What he does feel is something entirely different. Something he didn't think he'd feel again, but somehow, with Laura, it's almost as if it was always unavoidable.

Sometimes he even wonders if he has loved her longer than he has liked her.

But then that is probably just the weed putting nonsensical thoughts in his head.

Someday, when they're both more sober, he'll have to tell her exactly how she makes him feel.

Someday, when she's ready to hear it.

But right now, with his love tucked safely by his side, he needs nothing more.

Gods bless that New Caprican leaf.


End file.
